


Oh! that hopeful feeling when eden was lost

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Controlling Behavior, Crowley Doesn't Need Redemption, M/M, Post canon, Religious Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 17:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are ten year out from the world not ending, and they're finally getting married.  But god has an offer for them that she won't let them refuse.





	Oh! that hopeful feeling when eden was lost

**Author's Note:**

> I uh got a little angry about fics and headcanons about Crowley being redeemed and god secretly being the good guy by setting up Crowley and Aziraphale on Earth! And this came out! 
> 
> I feel like I should warn that there's some abusive and controlling behavior from god in the fic that could potentially be upsetting to some people! But gay love always triumphs, so happy ending. 
> 
> Also I almost forgot the title is from Be by Hozier because OOF

A decade has passed since the world didn’t end, and Crowley and Aziraphale have settled into their post-not-apocalypse lives quite well together. After a few bumps here and there, they've settled into a surprisingly simple domestic life that suits them both just fine. 

Aziraphale is quite proud that he's managed to sell exactly zero books in this decade. He has given away many of the (less rare) children's books to those in need that have stumbled into his shop, a copy of rarely seen poems of Sappho to a woman trying to woo the woman next door, and a book on gardening. Well, Crowley paid for the gardening book in kisses and  _ other _ favors, so he supposes he’s sold  _ one _ book in the past decade.

Crowley, meanwhile, has mostly focused on his garden. It took some time to work through his issues, even with Aziraphale’s support, but his garden grows healthier and happy now that he’s learned to treat them with love instead of ruling them with fear. He’s also taken to cooking and baking; while he still doesn’t eat much, Aziraphale is more than happy to try all of his delectable creations. 

Most people in Soho know that if they’re in need of a place to breathe, whether from an unpleasant situation or a dangerous one, the kindly gay bookshop owner will give them a place to breathe, and his equally gay, equally kindly (but in a “will threaten to ruin the life of your asshole neighbor” sort of way) husband will bring around whatever he’s been cooking in the kitchen. Somehow, it will always be exactly what they need, made exactly how they like it best.

“What a surprise!” Crowley always says as they announce their pleasure with a shy smile. “Glad I could help.”

And Aziraphale looks on, absolutely besotted. Always.

So it’s been a decade since the world didn’t end, and Crowley and Aziraphale are finally getting married. It seems silly that they haven’t already- everyone always assumes they’re married- but they didn’t quite get around to making it official. What’s the point when you’re two immortal beings anyway? 

But they also want to make it official, because it’s a very human thing and they love humanity. They’re actually pretty spontaneous about it; if something isn’t perfect, that’s fine because they can do it again and again and again. 

“How have you not gotten married yet? I thought that’s what you were doing when you guys disappeared for a few months way back,” Anathema says, parting Crowley’s hair to get ready to braid it. 

“Wlk,” Crowley says, blushing red at the memory of the vacation they took exclusively to  _ make love _ , as Aziraphale insists on calling it. “Other things.”

Anathema laughs. “Oh, I see. Yeah, Sarah and I took a trip like that, too. Turns out sex can be fun when you’re attracted to-”

Anathema’s hands still, carded through Crowley’s hair, and she suddenly stops talking. All the sounds outside have stopped too; it’s perfectly silent in a way that feels unnatural. 

“Anathema?” Crowley asks, tilting his head upwards.

His hair slides through her fingers, and Crowley is grateful that she wasn’t gripping his hair tightly as he realizes that she’s frozen in place. He wants her to be moving again, but she remains still. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice comes from outside. He doesn’t sound hurt, but he does sound scared. “Crowley!”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley is on his feet and out the door in an instant. “Are you alright?”

Crowley rounds the corner and his heart nearly stops when he sees Aziraphale, dressed in his bright white tuxedo from the 1800s. As gorgeous as he looks, that's not what's made Crowley's heart stop. 

Aziraphale is flanked by Gabriel and Sandalphon, both looking just the same as always. It's been a decade since he's seen either of them, but the old fear and anger resurfaces quickly, particularly when he notices the hands on Aziraphale's shoulders. 

"Hands off," Crowley says and they're both gone. He crosses over to Aziraphale immediately. "Are you alright, angel?"

Aziraphale reaches for him, pulling him close. His warm body is shaking slightly, a feeling that Crowley understands. He does his best to comfort his angel, holding him tight.

"They said that they were here to bring us both to see," and Aziraphale's voice drops to less than a whisper, "her."

There's only one person that Aziraphale can mean and Crowley can feel his whole body go hot and cold at once. He had feared this day would come for a long time, but now that it's here, he's not sure what to do.

"Darling, we'll stand up against whatever she throws at us together,” Aziraphale says. 

Crowley is about to affirm his belief that they’ll be okay since they’re together, but he’s suddenly not holding Aziraphale and not standing on Earth. He turns his head and realizes that he’s standing in god’s own chambers; the last time he was here was when she kicked him down to Hell. 

There’s a roaring in his ears as he looks around for Aziraphale. His angel is standing a hand’s breadth away, but when Crowley reaches out to touch him, he’s too far away to reach. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley yells, but the angel in question is staring upwards, slackjawed. He realizes that Aziraphale has probably never stood directly in god’s inner sanctum before. God only lets her angels in here to punish them.

_ Aziraphale. Kokabiel. Thank You For Coming. _

The heavenly voice ringing in their ears seems to snap Aziraphale out of his trance- or perhaps it’s the shock of hearing Crowley’s given, heavenly name. It hadn’t been stripped from him when he fell, but he no longer felt like associating himself with the god that had cast him out.

It’s been over 6,000 years since anyone has used that name.

“My name is Crowley,” he says, voice shaking a bit despite himself. He wants to keep the focus on himself, so her attention and wrath isn’t focused on Aziraphale. Somehow, he’s managed to avoid falling and becoming demonic; Crowley doesn’t want him to experience that pain and separation, “and you didn’t give us much choice.”

_ I Have A Gift For You, My Kokabiel. And For You, Aziraphale. A Wedding Gift, If You Will. _

“His name is Crowley,” Aziraphale says, much firmer than Crowley’s own voice had been. His fists are clenched as he stares unwaveringly into the bright, heavenly light of god. “All we want is to be left alone together.”

That bright heavenly light shifts attention to Crowley, and he can tell because he can feel the burn around the edges of his existence; he’s suddenly acutely aware of how quickly he can be snuffed out. It’s funny how quickly he’s forgotten about his own vulnerability after just a decade of peace with Aziraphale.

_ I Forgive You For Your Transgressions, My Kokabiel. You Were Always One Of My Favorites, And I Want You To Come Home. You Can Be Whole Again. _

Whatever Crowley was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. He feels small and scared and faint; the burning at the edges of his being may be the only thing keeping him grounded in this moment. 

It’s not something he particularly wants, not anymore, but it’s still a startling offer to be presented with.

“Excuse me?” Aziraphale’s voice cuts through the roaring in Crowley’s ears. “ _ You _ forgive  _ him _ ? He’s one of your  _ favorites _ ? You cast him out! You tossed him aside for asking questions! He’s already whole and he deserves better than what you’ve given him. I-In fact, you should be asking him for his forgiveness!”

Crowley looks over to see his angel with his wings unfurled and glaring up at god. He’s never seen him so upset; Crowley is still dumbfounded at the offer.

_ Excuse Me? _

And god sounds… confused, and the burning stops as she turns to focus on Aziraphale.

_ You Are One Of My Favorites, Too. This Is Why I Brought You Both To Earth. You Are Far Happier Together Than Apart, And Far Happier On Earth Than You Could Have Been Elsewhere.  _

Aziraphale wilts a bit under the gaze of god, but now Crowley is incensed by god’s words.

“You made him suffer six thousand years under Gabriel’s thumb! You could’ve given him a real choice, a free choice to leave without falling- or you could’ve made heaven better! Made Gabriel and Michael too afraid to be assholes, instead of making Aziraphale frightened to be kind!” Crowley protests. “Aziraphale is the very best of your creation, and you forced him to live in fear for six thousand years!”

_ You Are My Beloved Creations. Take Your Places In Heaven And Rejoice In My Glory. Or Gabriel Will Know How You Fooled Him Last Time, And Aziraphale Will Be Cut Off From My Love For I Have Given Him Enough Leeway, And Kokabiel Will Be Given To Lucifer, Who Is Still Upset About The Botched Corruption Of His Son. The Choice Is Yours. _

And there was a time when Crowley would have backed off. When he would have bowed and begged forgiveness, knowing deep in whatever passes for his soul that the only way to help protect Aziraphale was to lay low. 

But he looks over at Aziraphale, at his handsome husband, so very brave and absolutely full of truly righteous fury in this moment, who is looking back at him, and he can tell that Aziraphale’s thoughts are exactly in line with Crowley’s deep desire. 

If these are to be their final moments, Crowley is determined that he will not be separated from Aziraphale. He has spent too much time apart from Aziraphale because of god, and he reaches his hand out to Aziraphale, the angel reaching towards him, too.

There’s a half second where whatever fuckery god has concocted keeps them from touching. But Crowley thinks about the six thousand years of waiting, of being full of so much love that he was afraid of it, and of the glory and happiness of finally knowing that his love was returned in full force, and he uses that to power his will.

Aziraphale’s fingers interlace with his and the precious moment where they touch stretches long.

“I’m not going to let her hurt you. Not again,” Aziraphale says firmly. “I don’t care what it takes.”

Crowley smiles at the protectiveness in Aziraphale’s voice and nods.

“Ten years isn’t long enough,” Crowley firmly. “We’ll fight and get back to our wedding.”

The stretched moment ends, as all moments eventually do, and Crowley holds Aziraphale’s hand firmly, ready to face down god hand in hand with the man that he loves. Crowley can feel his will strengthening, buoyed by the connection with Aziraphale, as the ground shakes beneath them. 

God is trying to pull them apart; Crowley can feel her malevolence working against them, but neither he nor Aziraphale will ever let that happen again. They push in unison against her will. 

Crowley can feel Aziraphale's will brushing against his, and it's electrifying. The brightness of Aziraphale's soul against his contrasts sharply with the brightness of god. Where god is painful and burning, Aziraphale is healing and warm. Aziraphale's soul warms him in places he didn't know were cold and strengthens him to keep fighting against the burning brightness trying to crush them. 

He pours his will into safety. Into a world where he and Aziraphale are able to be together without interruption. Imagining six thousand more years and more years beyond that, learning more about Aziraphale and humanity and falling deeper in love with them both. 

His head suddenly flashes with images he would sooner forget: laying in the sulfur pits after his fall; surrounded by the dying of the plague, unable to help; laying in a field listening to the space inside him that always whispered that Aziraphale could never really love him for six thousand years, nearly consumed with the sure knowledge that he's a wicked and unlovable thing; driving to bar, empty and scorched and certain that Aziraphale had died and that he had died never knowing how he felt, and now he was alone in the whole of creation.

And he's not just seeing these pictures, but he's feeling it, too. He can feel the desolation as if he's reliving it all in real-time, and his grip goes slack. 

Crowley doesn't drift away, though, because Aziraphale grips him even tighter than before. The pictures in his head are replaced by new images and feelings, and he realizes that he's seeing himself through Aziraphale's eyes. 

He's sneaking children onto Noah's ark; he's bringing by chocolates to celebrate the opening of Aziraphale's shop; he's at the Bastille to rescue Aziraphale, the dashing hero that he's always wanted to be; the first time that they kissed and the first time they made love and the first time they held hands the first time they were able to proudly proclaim their love, after hiding it and being afraid of it for so long. 

But this time he's experiencing it through Aziraphale's eyes. He's handsome and brave and even the strange, unlovable bits of Crowley are made lovable in Aziraphale’s eyes; the love that Aziraphale has for him is so strong that Crowley is washed clean. The loneliness and hatred that god made him relive is gone, replaced by the overwhelming love Aziraphale has carried for him for so long. 

Crowley can feel god’s attention turning to Aziraphale and he’s ready. When god forces Aziraphale to relive his time miserable in heaven, Crowley lets him feel how quickly he fell in love with him on the wall of Eden. When god forces Aziraphale to relive being cornered by the other angels and threatened, feeling small and scared, Crowley shows him how brave he’s always been, to have rebelled so much. God shows Aziraphale centuries of hiding from himself and of the emptiness that brought; Crowley shows Aziraphale them laughing together and makes sure that he can feel the brightening in Crowley’s chest at the sight of Aziraphale, happy and relaxed.

There are billions of moments that Crowley can pick, and the vulnerability of bearing this mind and heart would be terrifying with anyone else in creation. He has loved Aziraphale for so long, and for the briefest moment that is almost their undoing.

Because god plucks the memory of the bandstand from both of their heads. Shows them the pain they had caused each other. How rejected and sad Crowley had felt. The lonely fear Aziraphale held close in his heart, the one person he’s safe with walking away. And god follows the curve of their hurt, sharpens it into weapons, not by reminding Crowley of his pain or by reminding Aziraphale of his, but by showing Crowley the depths of Aziraphale’s suffering and by showing Aziraphale the depth of Crowley’s pain and by twisting both narratives around to make them wholly responsible for hurting each other so deeply. 

(Crowley had never quite realized before this moment that the reason why Aziraphale had pushed him away so many times had been fear for what hell would do to Crowley if they found out.)

(Oh)

Crowley can see in Aziraphale’s mind through this connection they’ve struck up. He can see that god has shown him a dark time in Crowley’s life, after Aziraphale had declared them not friends loudly and insistently in the court of Mary, Queen of Scots, when he decided to just sleep instead of facing how much he loved and felt rejected by Aziraphale. He had woken up again at Aziraphale’s call, and god twists it into a story of Aziraphale hurting Crowley selfishly for centuries. 

Crowley understood why he had done what he had done- fear of heaven is a powerful tool, and Crowley would never want him to put his safety in danger. He had just needed to have his feelings for a bit, and it had already been a dark time for reasons entirely apart from Aziraphale. God doesn’t show him any of that. 

Aziraphale is slipping towards despair, and the weight of god is pressing upon them now that they’re not working in unison; Crowley can feel them both starting to burn. 

A wind kicks up from nowhere, chasing the sweat and steam from them. 

_ You Are Both Nothing Here, In My Domain. I Had Given You Grace. I Had Given You Forgiveness. And You Ruin It, As Always. Nothing Is Worthy Of My Love, But I Give It Anyway. And You Reject It. _

“Aziraphale,” Crowley finds his voice, takes his free hand to force Aziraphale to look at him. The dead hopelessness in his eyes pierces through Crowley’s chest; it’s like his whole body is starting to turn to stone. “Angel, you were doing what you thought was best to protect me from heaven and hell. You had to keep yourself safe, too. It was hard and painful, but it’s not your fault. It’s hers, for setting up this system and for putting us on opposite sides to hurt us.”

From the place where Crowley is touching his cheek, the life and light starts to return to Aziraphale’s being. Just as the last of the godly corruption is washed away, everything freezes like back at the wedding. 

_ Back Down And I Will Make It Better. I Will Undo The Pain.  _

And he is on the Wall of Eden. This time, he’s not a demon (why would he be a demon? He’s never been a demon. He hates demons.) and he’s been assigned to guard the garden with an angel he’s never met before. The angel has the most brilliant golden curls that he’s ever seen, and he is stunned for a moment at the sight of such beauty.

“Erm, hello?" the beautiful angel asks. "Are you alright?"

"Sorry," he apologizes. "Hi, yes, I'm here to help you guard the garden from the works of demonic forces!"

The angel smiles at him, seemingly reassured by this. He gestures beside him. 

"Oh, lovely," the angel says. "I’m Aziraphale. It’s wonderful to meet you."

And before he can respond, he hears the angel's voice. This time, though, the angel's voice is coming from inside of him. 

<<Oh, Crowley, you have to fight against her hold. I know it's hard, but you have to remember. I need you to come back to me.>>

He shakes his head, rubbing his forehead. 

"Are you alright?" the angel asks, pressing a hand to his shoulder. "Oh, please don't leave me here without you."

And the edges of his vision blur as he realizes that that something isn't quite right. Yes, he met Aziraphale here, but it wasn't like this. 

_ But Wouldn't It Be Better This Way? I Can Give You Those Six Thousand Years. _

Part of Crowley wants that desperately. Wants to wrest six thousand years back, to have spent that time loving Aziraphale openly, proudly as they both deserve. But he knows they would still be in danger, stuck under the thumb of a god who could snatch it back at any time. 

And Crowley finds the bit of himself that's always known when Aziraphale is in danger. He follows that trail in himself and the garden dissipates, revealing Aziraphale holding him tight, the world trembling and swirling around them once more. 

"Are you ready to end this?" Crowley asks, pulling away just enough to look Aziraphale in the eyes. "Once and for all?"

Aziraphale answers by pressing his lips to Crowley's tenderly, cupping his face between both hands. He kisses Crowley fiercely with all of the love and protection in him, and Crowley answers in kind. 

God is on their periphery in this. Crowley focuses on Aziraphale's happiness and safety, as he's always done, and he focuses on the joy within his own heart when he's with Aziraphale, and he can feel Aziraphale’s feelings mirroring his own.

There's a screaming that surrounds them both, growing louder and louder as they focus exclusively on each other. It's frantic, but growing fainter. Great temptations whisper in Crowley's brain, but Crowley can’t even hear them because all he can hear Aziraphale murmuring sweet things in his mind while they kiss. 

The world is coming apart around them; there’s no more ground beneath him, and even though it feels like falling, Crowley’s not afraid with Aziraphale. The lights are going out around them as the screaming grows louder and louder, enough to shake them both to their very bones.

<<I love you>>

The silence is deafening as their feet find purchase on ground once more. They pull apart slightly, exhaling hard as they continue to cling to each other. 

“Did we just…?” Crowley murmurs.

It’s almost painful to take his eyes off of Aziraphale, after what just happened, but he wants to make sure that there’s no more threat. They’re back in god’s inner sanctum, but it’s empty now. There’s no blinding light above. It’s just them.

“Overthrow god?” Aziraphale supplies. 

“Yeah,” Crowley says. 

“Can we do that?” Aziraphale asks.

Crowley looks at him and shrugs. “Maybe. Together.”

“I don’t feel god’s love anymore,” Aziraphale says, wondrously. “Within me, I mean.”

“Are you alright?” Crowley asks. When he lost that feeling, he had been full of unbearable agony. 

“I have a better love now,” Aziraphale says, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “so yes, dear, I’m more than fine.”

They’re still holding hands as they turn and walk out of the sanctum. As they walk through heaven towards the exit, they realize that the halls of heaven are empty. Not entirely empty- there’s a stray angel here and there, but nobody that either of them recognize. 

“Maybe we just got rid of the ones who meant us harm,” Aziraphale says softly. 

They don’t say anything on the elevator ride downstairs. There’s no need, not in this moment. They just enjoy the sweetness of each other’s company, even in the dingiest of places.

When they hit ground level, they stroll out onto the street together, still hand in hand. The Bentley is waiting for them, door open and somehow shinier than ever before.

They make it to the altar only slightly late, and Crowley can’t keep the grin off of his face as he stands before Aziraphale. He’s not sure if it has to do with the changing in the cosmic order or if it’s his joy at finally marrying Aziraphale, but everything is brighter than ever. 

“You may now kiss your husband,” Anathema intones at the end of the ceremony. 

They both lean forward, and somehow, kissing Aziraphale feels brand new. It’s ridiculous, how his face still turns red as Aziraphale beams at him; it’ll never get old, being the one who makes Aziraphale  _ that _ happy. 

“I love you, my dearest Crowley,” Aziraphale says, cupping Crowley’s cheek. His thumb brushes over Crowley’s skin, wiping away the tears that have gathered there. “You’re such a sweetheart.”

Crowley can’t say anything, too overcome with his own joy. They’re married and they’re finally truly safe. 

All he can do is lean forward to kiss Aziraphale again. His lips are smiling and warm, and Crowley can feel the love radiating between them. Peace settles over the both of them at long last.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi thanks for reading Crowley doesn't need redemption gay love triumphs always i have a lot of emotions etc etc
> 
> Also just to make sure it's crystal clear what they did: they got rid of any of the angels (and demons) that would've been down to hurt either of them.


End file.
